


take what you came here for

by phorie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Caning, Corporal Punishment, Crying, F/F, Gags, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phorie/pseuds/phorie
Summary: Brigitte scowls and tugs at the ropes around her wrists. She knows she can be bratty sometimes and she lets a hint of it seep into her voice when she complains, "I already said I was sorry.""You did," Mercy agrees, tucking a strand of Brigitte's hair behind her ears, "andIalready said you'd be punished."[bdsm, punishment spanking, sub!Brigitte, switch!Mercy, dom!Widowmaker]
Relationships: Brigitte Lindholm/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Brigitte Lindholm/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	take what you came here for

"You aren't going to enjoy this."

From her position on the chair, Brigitte looks up with a grin. "Is that a challenge?"

Mercy's lips curve in amusement as she leans down to kiss Brigitte on the forehead. "More like a promise. There's no use in calling it a punishment if you like it."

Brigitte scowls and tugs at the ropes around her wrists. She knows she can be bratty sometimes and she lets a hint of it seep into her voice when she complains, "I already said I was sorry."

"You did," Mercy agrees, tucking a strand of Brigitte's hair behind her ears, "and _I_ already said you'd be punished."

Brigitte tugs against the ropes again. It's pretty obvious what Mercy's intentions are -- she's naked and tied over a chair with her ass in the air, after all -- and Brigitte wriggles as much as she can when she says, "So spank me already, _mistress_."

She knows she's being disobedient but she's been waiting for too long already; she wants the punishment over so that she and Mercy can get back to their usual play. However, Mercy seems in no hurry as she strolls across the hotel room and takes a slow sip of water. 

"You remember the rules?" Mercy says. She leans back against the dresser, still fully clothed, and looks expectantly at Brigitte. 

"It's all or nothing," Brigitte says with a sigh. "I can use my safeword but only to stop, not to slow down."

"Exactly," Mercy says, inspecting her crimson nail polish. "You use your safeword before your punishment is over and we stop and try again another day."

"With the same punishment?" Brigitte asks. "Do I get credit for partial completion?"

It's an optimistic question at best and Mercy smiles. "No partial credit. We start from scratch. And who knows, next time might be something you enjoy even less."

Brigitte sighs. The ropes are tied tight, keeping her on her knees on the cushioned chair. Her bare breasts rest against the top of the chair and her arms are bound to the chair back, giving Mercy unfettered access to almost the whole of Brigitte's body. 

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't already a little wet.

There's a knock at the hotel room door and any arousal is immediately replaced with panic at the thought of being interrupted by housekeeping. "I-"

"Shhh," Mercy says, patting Brigitte on the ass as she walks to the door. "Nothing to worry about."

The door squeaks when she opens it and Brigitte tries and fails to see who's at the door. She and the chair are out of direct sight of the doorway, which is a relief, but she frowns when she hears Mercy's friendly greeting. 

"Thank you for coming."

Brigitte's heart drops when a woman responds in an all too familiar French accent, "My pleasure."

"What-" Brigitte begins but is silenced by a tut from Mercy.

"Is that any way to greet our guest?" she says sternly and despite her desire to protest, Brigitte keeps quiet. 

She's met Amelie -- _Widowmaker?_ \-- before, briefly. Despite their position on opposing sides of the ongoing conflict, Amelie and Angela appear to have a history of sorts; Brigitte isn't sure of the exact nature of their relationship but it doesn't come as a total surprise that this is the kind of situation where Amelie would make an appearance.

They've played with a third person before, multiple times, but Brigitte shifts nervously as much as the restraints allows when Amelie follows Mercy inside the room and closes the door behind her.

Mercy's in front of her again in an instant, cupping Brigitte's cheek with her hand as she asks, "Shall we continue?"

It's a genuine question, an invitation for Brigitte to use her safeword if she wishes, and Brigitte hesitates for a long moment. Amelie leans against the wall to her left, a bag slung over her shoulder and tall boots visible beneath her coat, but her expression stays neutral as she waits for Brigitte's answer.

If she was thinking straight, Brigitte might have said no but here, bound and exposed and already dying from anticipation, she decides it would be worse to stop than to continue.

"Yes," Brigitte says, to Mercy. "Please."

Mercy and Amelie share a glance that Brigitte can't read. Amelie moves out of her view and Brigitte hears the rustle of her coat as Mercy crooks a finger under Brigitte's chin.

"Widowmaker is here to help me," Mercy says. "You can refer to her by her name or by 'mistress'."

Brigitte purses her lips. She never got the hang of formal titles -- calling someone 'mistress' or 'daddy' during sex just feels weird -- and while she's more than happy using Mercy's call sign instead of her name when they play like this, 'Widowmaker' is more of a mouthful.

"Understood?" Mercy asks, lifting Brigitte's chin higher, and she nods quickly. 

No time like the present to learn.

"Yes."

She gulps when Mercy looks over her head to Ame- to _Widowmaker_ and smiles. "She's all yours."

"Finally."

The voice from behind her is dry and amused but slips into demanding when Widowmaker adds, "Why are you wearing so many clothes?"

Brigitte frowns. She's already very naked, has been for over thirty minutes now, but she soon realises her mistake when Mercy rolls her eyes and begins to unbutton her shirt. 

She takes her time, stripping out of her shirt and pencil skirt and hanging them neatly in the wardrobe next to Brigitte's overalls, and Brigitte's eyes go wide when she sees the plunging black bra and tiny silk panties beneath. 

Slipping her heels off, Mercy sits back against the pillows on the bed and says, smirking, "Satisfied?"

Brigitte can't help but nod, but then blushes red at the mocking laughter from behind her. 

"I don't think she was asking you," Widowmaker says. Her nails run down the underside of Brigitte's bare feet and Brigitte stifles a scream at the tickling sensation when Widowmaker addresses Mercy again, "But yes, that's enough for now."

Her nails move up, tracing paths along Brigitte's calves and thighs, and Brigitte knows her face is scarlet when Widowmaker leans down to get a closer look at her pussy.

"Already?" she says, and Brigitte closes her eyes at the disapproval in her voice. "Did you play with her before I arrived?"

Mercy shakes her head. "She's... enthusiastic."

"I'll make sure to give her some attention," Widowmaker says, moving her nails up to rake over Brigitte's raised ass. "But I doubt it will be the kind of attention she wants."

There's another rustle from behind her but when Brigitte tries to look back, she gets a sharp slap across her ass and the order, "Face forward. You can keep your eyes on the woman who has done such a poor job discipling you so far."

Mercy gives Widowmaker a half-hearted glare but spreads her legs on the bed as Brigitte looks in her direction.

"What do I call you?" Widowmaker asks. 

They've met before, albeit not in these circumstances, and Brigitte says uncertainly, "Uh. My name is Brigitte Lindholm."

Another slap, the flat of Widowmaker's hand colliding with her ass. "I didn't ask for your name," she says. "I asked what to call you."

Something solid -- a paddle? -- rests against Brigitte's back as Widowmaker thinks aloud, "From the position you're in, I'd choose _pute_ but even whores don't get wet this fast. _Salope_ , perhaps?"

 _Slut_. Brigitte knows that one and she shivers under Mercy's expectant gaze as she says, trying for obedience, "Whatever you like."

The weight is lifted from her back and Brigitte yells in pain and surprise when the paddle comes down hard against her ass. Widowmaker hits her again, two, three, four times in exactly the same spot, and Brigitte cries out, thrashing in the ropes at the sudden blunt agony.

"Whatever I like..." Widowmaker prompts.

The paddle lands again and Brigitte gasps, eager to stop the pain as quickly as possible, "Mistress!" 

On the bed, she sees Mercy look towards Widowmaker with a smirk. It feels like Brigitte's already lost whatever game the two of them are playing but when the paddle comes down again, leaving a dull pain across the back of her thighs, Brigitte wonders just how badly she's going to lose today.

"Why are you here?" Widowmaker asks. "What have you done to deserve my attention tonight?"

Brigitte's mouth is dry when she licks her lips. "I, uh- I was disobedient, mistress?"

Widowmaker clicks her tongue. "Is your training that poor?" The paddle is back, this time just resting against Brigitte's inner thigh and moving up and down in slow strokes. "I expect full answers, _chienne_."

Brigitte knows that one too -- _dog, or maybe bitch?_ \-- and she shifts on the chair. She's not so great at admitting her mistakes, and especially not when she's naked and tied up in front of an intimidating stranger armed with a paddle. 

However, with her ass still stinging from the previous blows, she makes her best attempt.

"Mercy was away," she says carefully, "and she left me instructions but I didn't follow all of them."

"Go on," Widowmaker says.

Brigitte gulps. "I was told to clean the house but I missed the bathroom. I was told to have pasta cooked for when Mercy came home but I took the wrong sauce out of the freezer by accident and by the time I realised, it was too late." She doesn't look at Mercy when she says, "I was supposed to stay naked the whole time but I forgot and put a robe on for an hour when I woke up."

"Is that all of it?"

Brigitte shakes her head, embarrassed. "I- Mercy told me not to come without her there but the things she had me do- I- I came. Twice."

"Twice?" Widowmaker says, sounding appalled. "I'm not surprised Mercy asked for my help."

The sound of her boots are muffled by the carpet but Brigitte looks up when she walks around in front of her. She's still clothed, although her dress is tight enough to leave little to the imagination, but Brigitte's attention is caught and held by the four implements in her hands.

"Tell me, _chienne_ ," Widowmaker asks, "which is your favorite?"

Describing any of them as a 'favorite' is a stretch but Brigitte nods to the paddle as she says, "The paddle, mistress."

"And the next?"

"The- The crop, mistress."

Widowmaker makes an interested noise as she sets them aside, leaving her with one implement in each hand. "And the third?"

Brigitte hesitates for a second and lies, "The cane, mistress."

Widowmaker moves faster than she expects. Brigitte almost doesn't realise what's happened until she feels the line of fire across the top of her breasts from where the cane landed. She cries out, trying desperately to shield her breasts from more blows, but the pain only increases when Widowmaker catches her nipples between her fingers and tugs sharply.

"Please-"

"Oh, _chienne_ ," Widowmaker says with feigned sympathy. "We haven't even started yet and already you've lied to me." She leans down, almost brushing Brigitte's lips with hers. "I already know you hate the cane the most. And now you've earned some extra strikes with it."

She stands, moving out of Brigitte's sight again, and Brigitte closes her eyes. Her hands are shaking and she curls them into fists as she tugs helplessly on the ropes that hold her fast. 

She doesn't look at Mercy.

"Count for me, _chienne_ ," Widowmaker orders, and Brigitte tries to brace herself for the blows.

The paddle hits first, a solid thwack of a blow against her ass, and she stammers out, "One, mistress" just before she hears the whistle of a second blow.

The paddling is hard but not full force. Brigitte rocks forward with each thud, a warm, stinging pain spreading over her ass and thighs, and despite everything, she feels herself getting wetter under the blows. She's always been better with blunt, thudding pain than the sharp agony of a cane, and against her better judgment, she can't keep from canting her ass back up into the strikes.

She's almost disappointed when Widowmaker stops at ten.

When she walks back in front of her, Widowmaker is holding the crop and Brigitte's eyes go wide when she runs the folded end of it over Brigitte's nipples. 

They harden involuntarily at the contact and Widowmaker twists Brigitte's hair around her hand as she pulls her head back. "Keep your head up. You can watch how much Mercy is enjoying this."

Brigitte has been trying hard not to think about that but she knows better than to disobey a direct order. 

Her gaze travels to the bed and she bites her lip at the sight of Mercy leaning back against the pillows and rubbing slow circles through the front of her panties. The silk catches the light and heat courses through Brigitte when she sees just how damp they are already. 

"Count," Widowmaker orders again, and the crop comes down before Brigitte can think.

The blows are quick and stinging, sharp slaps peppered over the swell of Brigitte's breasts. The skin reddens quickly, intense sparks of pain across her tits, but Widowmaker's hand stays in her hair throughout, forcing her head up and denying her any kind of shelter from the blows and the scrutiny. 

Brigitte gasps out a count of ten, ready for the pain to stop, but lets out a loud whimper when Widowmaker keeps going. Blows eleven to fifteen land right on her nipples, placed there with a marksman's precision, and Brigitte arches with a sob, gasping out the last of the count.

She pulls in a lungful of air when Widowmaker releases her hair, trying to steady her breathing for what's to come. 

Her ass and breasts ache, and she already knows she won't be sitting comfortably for a while, but she can't keep the fear from building at the knowledge that more is coming.

The whip swishes through the air behind her and Brigitte flinches before realising it was just a practice swing. She looks up at Mercy, desperate and apologetic, but sags when she sees Mercy slip a hand inside her bra to toy with her own nipple.

 _It's a punishment,_ she reminds herself. _You screwed up. You may not be enjoying yourself but at least Mercy is._

The first lash of the whip is better than she expects.

It hurts, of course it does, but not the deep, sharp pain that Brigitte was bracing for. It slaps just under the curve of her ass, leaving a bright ache behind, and Brigitte pulls on the ropes with a whine. "One, mistress."

The second is slightly harder, landing across the back of her thighs, and Brigitte cries out. "Two, mistress!"

When the third lands on the bare sole of her foot, Brigitte isn't sure what sound leaves her mouth. 

The pain overwrites everything -- the room, the company, the arousal -- and she tries in vain to kick her legs out to soften the searing crack of the whip as she sobs. 

"Please-"

"That isn't what comes after two," Widowmaker says, unmoved, and Brigitte blinks back the sting of tears in her eyes as she catches her breath.

She doesn't bother hiding the defeat in her voice when she gasps, "Three, mistress."

Somehow, she keeps the count going to twenty. After the first three, she can't differentiate between the blows anymore; some are light and quick, and some feel like they have Widowmaker's full strength behind them. 

They don't break the skin -- or at least she assumes they don't; even for a punishment, Mercy wouldn't breach a hard limit -- but they hurt as much as if they did. By the end of it, Brigitte's whole body feels like it's on fire, stripes of pain painted across her ass and thighs, and her chest is heaving with the effort to breathe when Widowmaker finally, _finally_ stops.

She doesn't even realise she's crying until she looks up at Mercy and has to blink away the sheen of tears. Mercy's watching intently, a combination of concern and arousal on her face, and Brigitte doesn't know who she's addressing when she begs, "Please... I'm sorry..."

She hears Widowmaker laugh behind her and Brigitte cries out when her nails rake over the welts on her thighs. "We aren't finished yet, _chienne_."

She walks in front of her, twirling the cane between her fingers, and Brigitte sobs. "I- I can't. Please..."

"You can."

Mercy's voice comes as a surprise and Brigitte blinks up at her as she slides off the bed and walks over where Brigitte is bound to the chair. Mercy's touch is careful as she wipes the tears from her eyes and Brigitte chases the gentle contact as she pleads, "It hurts..."

"You're doing well," Mercy says, pushing strands of Brigitte's sweat-damp hair back off her face. "You're doing so well. You want to make me proud, don't you?"

Not trusting herself to speak, Brigitte nods and Mercy leans in to kiss her on the lips. It's soft and warm and familiar and Brigitte sinks into the kiss as much as she can before Mercy pulls back reluctantly. 

She stands, preparing to sit back on the bed again, but Widowmaker stops her. "Remove them."

Mercy frowns but complies. Hooking her fingers under the waistband of her panties, she slides them down her bare legs and hands them to Widowmaker in confusion. 

Widowmaker wrinkles her nose but crumples the panties up into a small ball and taps Brigitte on the cheek with the cane. "Open."

Humiliation burns through her but Brigitte complies, parting her lips enough for Widowmaker to push Mercy's panties inside her mouth. They're wet and a pleasant shiver goes through Brigitte's shoulders as the familiar taste of Mercy spreads across her tongue.

"Better," Widowmaker says. "No-one likes a loud _chienne_."

It's unlikely anyone can hear them -- Mercy chose this room for a reason -- but the tattered remnants of Brigitte's pride are grateful for the help staying quiet as Widowmaker moves behind her again.

When it lands, the cane hurts more than Brigitte ever thought possible. 

Her ass and thighs are hot and sensitive from the beating she's been taking all evening but when Widowmaker brings the cane down across the swell of her ass, Brigitte takes back all her negative thoughts about the whip.

The pain is incredible, blinding and bright and burning, and she sobs out a count into the panties filling her mouth as Widowmaker canes her with steady ruthlessness. The thin wood comes down on older welts from the whip and the paddle but also creates new ones as Widowmaker slips it between her legs and slaps it hard against the untouched skin of her inner thighs.

After twenty strokes, Widowmaker pauses, sliding the cane between the folds of Brigitte's cunt. 

Brigitte screams into her gag, shaking her head in a desperate plea. Her safeword sits on her tongue, and she's on the verge of spitting out the panties and making it stop, when the cane is removed.

She can see her own wetness on the wood when Widowmaker strolls around to face her. 

Widowmaker puts the cane to her lips, tongue slipping out to lick along the length of it, and Brigitte groans in shame when Widowmaker smirks. "Not bad, _chienne_."

Any hope of a respite is quickly dashed when the cane moves down to tap against the underside of her breasts. Brigitte pleads through the gag as she looks up at Widowmaker but only gets a raised eyebrow in return.

"Perhaps next time you won't lie to me, _chienne_ ," she says and flashes Brigitte a smile as she brings the cane up to slap her breasts.

Brigitte yells, thrashing on the chair, but Widowmaker doesn't even wait for her to count them off as she lands alternate strokes against the top and the underside of Brigitte's vulnerable tits. There's nothing she can do, no room to twist away and no way to hide her breasts from the onslaught of blows, and when Widowmaker lands a final blow across both her nipples, Brigitte almost blacks out for a second.

She's crying in relief when Widowmaker sets the cane down. Her arms and legs are shaking and she's grateful for the stability of the chair as she tries to deal with the adrenaline and pain flooding through her body. 

Widowmaker cups her face and leans down to kiss her cheek. Her tongue darts out as she does so, tasting Brigitte's tears, and she smiles down at her when she says, "What do you say, _chienne_?"

Even with the panties stuffed in her mouth, Brigitte's pretty sure Widowmaker can make out her response when she says, exhausted, "Thank you, mistress..."

On the bed in front of her, Mercy moans and Brigitte looks over to see her arching on the bed, fingers sliding greedily between her legs.

"Did I say you could come?"

Widowmaker's voice is sharp and Brigitte tenses for a second before she realised it isn't directed at her. 

On the bed, Mercy freezes, a guilty expression on her face as she says, "I didn't think-"

"Evidently your _chienne_ isn't the only one in need of discipline," Widowmaker says with disapproval. 

There's a rustle of her coat as she gathers something from behind her and Brigitte jerks in surprise when the tie of Widowmaker's trenchcoat is bound around her eyes as a blindfold. 

She still aches, her ass and tits bruised from the punishment, but she forces her own breathing under control as she strains to hear what's happening in the rest of the room.

"You don't need to-" 

Mercy's interrupted by the click of Widowmaker's tongue. Brigitte hears her whine softly, pleadingly, as she audibly shifts position on the bed, and then silence descends for a moment.

It's broken by the now-familiar sound of the cane moving through the air and despite the lingering pain from her own spanking, Brigitte feels a pulse of heat between her thighs when she hears Mercy sob.

"One, mistress!"


End file.
